Just Like That
by weirdgrammar
Summary: If someone asks Sakurai how he could stand with Aomine's harassment whose is borderline bad boy and wild, most probably he'd stutter, apologize tremendously, and accidentally bite his own tongue looking for a right answer. Though, deep down, the answer is simple; he ignores it.


Suddenly got the urge to write this pair, even though I'm not a AoSaku shipper. Guess I wanted to abuse Sakurai's cuteness, that's all.

**Warning: **Yaoi, Errors, and one-shot.

**Disclaimer: **Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki-sensei and any reference used here belong to their respective owner. I own only the plot.

* * *

"Hey, Ryou."

Upon hearing a familiar gruffy voice from behind his seat, Sakurai doesn't need any further words to tell him what to do. Instead, his body moves of their own accord, slender hand stretches out into his school bag, fingers fumble around, and once the softness of fabric grazes his calloused fingers he pulls his hand out.

A homemade bento wrapped in dark blue clothes, specially made for Aomine Daiki.

And he's done them in a very smooth movement, almost like a watery motion.

Sakurai whirls around in the chair to the table behind his seat and places the bento on the table with a faint thud while keeping his head lowered. He demurely brings his gaze up to match with midnight eyes.

Aomine hasn't said anything. His lazy body posture hasn't budged either, back reclined on the chair, legs stretched out under the table, hands still stuffed inside his pockets.

But those eyes! Those midnight eyes are looking into his with an intense gaze. And, dear who-ever-up-there, please save his soul, they scare the shit out of him.

With whispers of apology, Sakurai drops his gaze on his laps, sweaty hands clutching his school pants tightly.

"Hey."

Again, Aomine's voice draws back his attention to him. His lips move to mutter an apology, but Aomine is fast to cut him off with a question.

"Where's yours?"

Oh.

_Oh._

"Oh."

Sakurai grabs his school bag and fishes around for his own bento. He sets the bento down before Aomine's, hangs the bag to its place back, then he goes timid in his seat again, fiddling thumbs, chewing on inner cheek nervously.

He hears Aomine snicker and the chair rattle forward. The knot on wrapped bento he made for Aomine is untied, the lid is opened, and Sakurai sinks his head between his shoulders in both fear and nervous when Aomine wishes 'itadakimasu~' in his deep voice.

Aomine takes a small bite of meat. Sakurai's heart is beating furiously in its confines of the ribcage.

Aomine looks at him, chopsticks midway to the bento. "Taste good," he says in a very casual tone. "You should eat yours, too, or I'll eat them for you."

Both Aomine's remark and tone surge a wave of relief through his body. His hand feels so light when he takes his chopsticks, he feels so easy to open his mouth, and his bento tastes somewhat better while listening to Aomine's muffled voice whining over homework.

* * *

If someone asks Sakurai how he could stand with Aomine's harassment whose is borderline bad boy and wild, most probably he'd stutter, apologize tremendously, and accidentally bite his own tongue looking for a right answer. Though, deep down, the answer is simple.

He ignores it.

Not he ignores Aomine or his harassment—he doubts he could ever push Aomine away. Aomine is so freaking large, perhaps twice of his own (no double meaning intended)—but he ignores his own discomfort.

He'd be lying if he says 'yes, it's so easy actually! All you have to do is...'

It's not easy at all.

It takes him months, dozens of matches, both unofficial and official, supports from his friends (his family doesn't know about it. Aomine-san is damn too scary), frequent prayers to gods, a mountain of self-help books, and high endurance to get used to Aomine's harassment.

Momoi tells him he's a saint; willing to comply Aomine's words, listening to Aomine whine over homework, doing Aomine's homework, making Aomine bento, apologizing to Wakamatsu-senpai on Aomine's and his behalf, making up an excuse for Aomine whenever his captain finds out he's missing from practices, and other things he does for Aomine which probably takes him weeks to list them up.

However, Sakurai never thinks he's a saint. At least not when he begins to find them pleasant, having Aomine constantly looming over him. Instead, he thinks he's an idiot because he only realizes it when Momoi points it out.

Since then, Sakurai becomes aware of his feelings toward Aomine.

* * *

Aomine is arrogant.

He knows that. Aomine knows it too. And he knows Aomine knows that he knows.

But, Sakurai never comments about it, nor does he chastise Aomine for it like Wakamatsu-senpai and Momoi do.

Frankly, he could—at least—talk bad about Aomine, or write it down in his diary or in his Japan History textbook if he wants to. But, they never spring into his mind because his eyes see them as confidence, high confidence, and it's so dazzling he has to shield his eyes with his hand watching Aomine's back.

His chest swells whenever he sees Aomine smoothly blaze through the court and dunk in the ball with ferocious swing, then he hears the buzz and the referee announce another score for Touou. He believes nothing of this could happen without Aomine's high confidence and talents.

It just... sometimes it breaks his heart.

Because of it, Aomine seems so distant even though he's standing there, right in front him, within his reach. When Sakurai brings up his hand to touch Aomine's back, he disappears and Sakurai grasps cold air.

Inside, he hopes Aomine is always around.

By his side, particularly.

But, it sounds so impossible.

* * *

He's determined to drag Aomine to the gym one evening. Sakurai marches up to the rooftop, occasionally offers a garbled apology under his breath when he butts shoulders with other students on the way to Aomine's favorite napping spot.

He stays rooted to the spot once he's reached the door. He balls his trembling, sweaty fists, and with a deep breath of determination, Sakurai wrenches the steel door open. Warm wind of approaching summer slaps his cheeks, whipping up his brown lock. Sakurai shoots his gaze up to the water tank.

Aomine-san should be there.

Burnt pricks his skin when he touches the rung and a wince escapes his lips, but Sakurai chooses to ignore the pain. Carefully, he climbs up the steel ladder, and stops once he glimpses Aomine lay down on the tank, hands folded behind his head, eyes closed.

He remains dumbfounded on the ladder at the sight before him. Aomine looks so peaceful in his sleep, the usual menacing aura seems to be robbed off of him, and out of sudden, Sakurai has the urge to caress Aomine's sculptured face.

A sound from Aomine snaps him back to reality. Sakurai mentally reprimands himself for forgetting his real purpose coming here.

"I'm—I'm so—sorry, Aomine-san," Sakurai begins with a stutter. "But—but, ple—please come to practice."

He watches as Aomine lazily cracks open his eyes, languidly shifts to face him with one hand stays folded under his head as a pillow. Aomine glares at him, midnight eyes meeting his.

Sakurai swallows thickly. "So—sorry. I didn't... mean to... I'm sorry..."

_Crap._ And here he thinks he's prepared to face Aomine.

Aomine heaves a sigh. "I—"

That sleepy, husky voice! It jolts him up he subconsciously loosens his grip on the ladder. Before Sakurai knows it, he loses his balance and gravity pulls him backward, hands frantically finding something to hold on. However, a strong arm loop around his shoulders, pulls him closer back to the ladder. Sakurai reflexively catches the ladder again, regaining his balance as he breathes raggedly.

Warm puffs graze his cheeks, and Sakurai just realizes Aomine's face is so freaking close, right before his eyes. Faint blush creeps onto his pale face, his heart accelerating.

Aomine's warmth, Aomine's breath, Aomine's scent, they drive him crazy. Sakurai feels lightheaded and the world spin around him. This is so maddening. He starts to lose himself in his own world.

A shout from Aomine yanks him back to reality. He blinks up at Aomine nervously.

"What's wrong with you?!" yells Aomine again. "Do you want to die early so that bad?!"

"I'm—I'm sorry, Aomine-san! I don't know, it just—I'm so sorry!"

Aomine clicks his tongue indignantly. "Can you stand by your own now?"

"I'm sorry, but yes, Aomine-san. I'm so sorry bothering you!"

"Promise you won't fall over if I let you go?"

Those words... His heart is screaming to stay inside Aomine's arm, never lets him go, but different words come out. "Yes, Aomine-san. I promise. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry—"

"Whatever," Aomine retreats back to his napping position.

Sakurai frowns. "Uhm... I'm sorry, but Aomine-san, practice?"

"Naah, I stay," Aomine shifts, his back to him.

Sakurai's frown deepens, something weighty settling on his heart. Aomine-san is hopeless. Biting his bottom lip, Sakurai climbs down the ladder. At the last rung, he hears Aomine call out to him again. Hope flares back to life.

"Yes, Aomine-san?"

"You already down there?" comes a reply. "You better are. And don't stumble down the stairs, I don't feel like giving you lilies yet."

His hope crushes. Without bothering to give a reply, Sakurai stomps off the rooftop. He storms through the corridor to the gym, gives his captain a lame excuse for coming late, halfheartedly passes the ball and scores three-point until the practice ends, answers Susa-senpai's question with mere one word or a nod, gulps down the mineral water without uttering a word, waves off his teammates' greeting, goes straight to his house, and throws himself to the bed.

His heart is aching for the whole day.

* * *

Sakurai is torn between sad and happy.

Touou lost to Seirin. Even worse, it's their first Winter Cup match.

Sakurai feels pain clench his chest seeing the bag under his senpai's eyes, though Imayoshi-san really does a great job to mask it. He watches bitterly as Imayoshi-san passes the captaincy torch to Wakamatsu-senpai, whom at first is reluctant to accept it.

His eyes scan the locker room thoroughly, yet he fails to see any sign of Aomine anywhere.

Perhaps, Aomine-san is going somewhere to cool his head off, he thinks to himself.

He breathes out a sigh. His shoulders feel so heavy, his bag cuts into his shoulder, and his steps to the stadium entrance are so slow.

He's sad.

Sakurai wishes Aomine was there to comfort him. But judging from the gloomy situation, he doubts Aomine could comfort himself either.

Days after the match, Sakurai feels so happy.

Aomine comes to the practice unannounced one evening. With a pair of new shoes, even.

Sure, it surprises him and the whole team at first. He almost doesn't believe the one who is entering the gym is actually Aomine Daiki, however he believes it's really Aomine, not just any Aomine, but Aomine-san whom he knows when Aomine picks up the ball from the smooth floor and yells at him rather lazily.

He turns to Momoi at the corner of the court, and her small nod confirms his doubts.

So, for the first time in his life, he initiates the move, jogging up in Aomine's direction, uttering a loud apology, holding up his hand, gesturing to pass the ball.

Just like that, Aomine passes him the ball.

And it makes him so frigging happy he could die.

Although, in the same time, in the back of his mind, knowledge of Kagami and Kuroko being the main reason behind Aomine's violent change saddens him.

Not his team.

Certainly not him.

* * *

He starts to take notice Aomine often wandering within his vicinity.

Like Aomine waiting for him going to the Chemistry lab, or going to the gym, or going to the rooftop so they can enjoy their lunch without being disturbed by Momoi—she loves to shove her horrible cooking in their faces, and dear god-of-food, the smell alone possibly crushes his lungs into a pulp.

Aomine's menacing aura becomes less and less intimidating each day they spend their time together. Up till to some point, Sakurai finds Aomine's accompany so warm.

Aomine still has his scowling face, but the topic—mostly basketball, obviously—he brings up chases the expression out of his tanned face, replaced by subtle happiness, but Sakurai still manages to catch it.

He never imagines to find himself sitting with Aomine-san, listening to his stupid stories, yet it's happening to him now.

* * *

They're having their lunch at the rooftop again albeit the slight cold temperature. The winter is approaching closer and closer.

Sakurai's body is still aching from yesterday's practice. Wakamatsu-senpai—or should he call him Wakamatsu-san? Or Captain? No, that sounds so weird—is a tyrant, even if less evil than Imayoshi-san.

Aomine looks fine, though, his muscles flexing without problems as he casually stuffs the octopus-shaped Vienna sausage into his mouth while talking about basketball. He knows Aomine is a monster, but he can't help feeling slightly envy at Aomine's body endurance while he's aching all over.

Soon, they finish eating and Sakurai cleans up. He's thinking about the homework his English teacher gave when Aomine suddenly pushes his hands up and settles his head on Sakurai's laps.

His body goes rigid almost immediately.

A moan escapes Aomine, and Sakurai finds his voice again, although it cracks a little. "I'm sorry, Aomine-san, but the class..."

"Sleepy, wanna take a nap here," Aomine has his eyes closed.

"I'm sorry, but then, I should go while you can..."

"No, stay here. I need a pillow, and dear gods, your laps are freaking soft!" Aomine smirks, the kind of smirk that makes his breath hitch. "Nice pillow."

Losing his tongue to retort, Sakurai places the bento next to him. Aomine's eyes are close. He allows himself to trail his gaze all over Aomine's features, along his sharp-edged cheekbones, along his navy lashes, along his nose, along his jaw, and finally his eyes are magnetized to Aomine's parted lips.

So thin, so tempting...

Blush dusts his cheeks, a weird feeling coils up inside his stomach, and Sakurai parts his lips to accommodate his fast breathing, supplying oxygen to his racing heart. Out of his conscious mind, Sakurai inches closer.

It isn't until Aomine snaps his eyes open, midnight eyes boring into his brown ones, so close, so clear Sakurai can see his own reflection in the midnight irises brings him back to his senses. He quickly retreats away, but a hand on his neck holds him in the place.

"Your fault..." mutters Aomine heatedly, and the next moment, Sakurai suddenly can't breathe. Something prevents him from breathing, his nose brushing against something warm. He feels a weird, foreign, yet tingling sensation on his lips. He tries to focus on the sensation, forming a coherent thought in his mind.

Then, it comes to him.

Aomine-san is kissing him.

The surprise at the newly found epiphany is too great he can't even think what to do, remains dumbstruck. Should he push Aomine away? Or should he—

A gentle bite on his bottom lip takes him by surprise, causing him to open his mouth.

Bad move—or is it a right move? He doesn't know.

Something warm and wet glides in, running along his teeth, tangling with his tongue. His taste buds are sensitized, sending sparks of message through the nerves to his brain, and gosh, it _is_ Aomine-san's tongue. Even crazier, he can taste spicy, salty and sour of his homemade bento conflated with Aomine's unique taste.

Aomine buries his hand in Sakurai's hair, then pushes deeper, and Sakurai cannot _not_ moan.

He guesses his moan must have triggered something inside Aomine when the kiss becomes hungrier and hungrier. His body feels so weak, lacking of oxygen, and Sakurai can't stop himself from flopping on top Aomine's broad chest.

That's a second before Aomine pulls away from the kiss.

Aomine pulls himself into a sitting position, bringing him along inside Aomine's warm embrace. Sakurai figures he must look terrible now, hair tousled, red face, saliva coats his now bruised lips, so he can't bring himself to face Aomine.

Aomine doesn't let him though, lifting his chin up between the tanned thumb and index finger. He snickers. "Adorable, making me want to kiss you again."

He immediately covers his lips with his hands, pools of tears forming at the corner of his eyes. His heart is thundering. Too many question are stuck inside his head. _Why is Aomine-san doing this to me?!_

Sakurai notices Aomine's face crumples up a little. The tanned fingers run along his cheek.

"Hey, did I disgust you?"

_Disgust?! No!_ Sakurai shakes his head furiously, hands still over his mouth.

"Then, what's up with that reaction?"

_Ah, right!_ He lets his hands fall on his laps and murmurs an apology. Sakurai lowers his head down, cheeks heating up. This is so embarrassing, having himself sitting in Aomine-san's laps, and kissed by him no less.

"Do you hate it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you hate it, the kiss?"

"I'm sorry, but no... Not really."

Aomine sighs. "Then, you shouldn't look so dejected."

"I'm sorry, Aomine-san...it's just... I don't get it why did you do that to me! I'm sorry though, not understanding your action!" he picks on his hem.

"You don't get it? The answer is simple, right? I like you."

Aomine's casual answer brings his head up to level his eyes with Aomine's midnight. At that moment, he can't hear anything but his thumping heart and Aomine's deep voice. He watches as Aomine tilts his head to side a little, humming thoughtfully.

"No, it doesn't sound right... Oh, I love you! Much better."

If it isn't because of the cold wind slices through his skin and hair, Sakurai would've thought he's dreaming. It seems to be so surreal to hear those sacred words expel out of Aomine's lips, his crush's lips, out of all people.

"Hey, you're not dead yet, right?" Aomine's voice snaps him back to reality.

"I'm sorry, but no! It just... So confusing! I don't know what to think or say. I... I'm sorry!"

"I'll make it easier for you," Aomine closes the distance between them, resting his forehead on his own. Sakurai can feel warm breath fanning against his cheeks and the embrace around his waist tightening. "Do you love me?"

Being so close with Aomine makes his mind blank. Not he likes to do the thinking anyway. So, he leaves to his instinct to answer Aomine's question.

"...yes."

Just like that, Aomine-san kisses him again. And they don't stop even when the school bell peals out, announcing the lunch break has over.

* * *

Being Aomine's boyfriend, Sakurai realizes Aomine loves to steal kisses from time to time.

During the lunch break, or changing clothes before and after the practice, or before the test—Aomine calls it a good luck kiss—and after the test—a celebration kiss?—or before and after a match, or while he's walking towards the class, or when he accidentally falls asleep in the class.

One day, Aomine steals a kiss from him during the practice.

It surprises him, and of course irritates Wakamatsu-san to no end. Later, after the practice has ended, Wakamatsu ambushes him and shoots him too many question that he can't mutter anything else but 'sorry'.

Fortunately, Aomine comes rescuing him, pulling him into his strong arms and shamelessly declares; "He's mine. So fuck off." Then, Aomine drags him away from the locker room.

"I'm sorry and thank you..." he says.

Aomine smiles, and he steals another kiss from him again.

He never says he hates it either.

* * *

"Trick or treat..." says Aomine lazily.

He blinks up clueless at his boyfriend, hand still clasping on the doorknob, half of his body staying hidden behind the door. He eyes Aomine from top to bottom, then. Aomine is dressed in a casual outfit.

"I'm sorry, Aomine-san, but Halloween already past, a month ago, and I'm sorry, but you don't wear any costume and I'm sorry, I don't have any sweets to give."

Aomine pushes the door open wider, saunters past him into the house—good thing his parents aren't at home at the moment, or else they'd have bombarded him with questions—and toes off his shoes. He, then, stands in the entrance house, hands shoved inside the sweater pocket, looking at him with a bored expression.

"Don't need costume or sweets. I'm a modern vampire and I want your blood as the treat."

His heart goes boom, boom again, and his legs mindlessly carries him to Aomine's spot. Steeling his nerves, Sakurai snakes his hands around Aomine's waist and buries his face in Aomine's chest.

"Hope you don't go sparkling when sunlight hits you."

Aomine chuckles, returning his embrace. "Doubt you can see sparkles shining through my dark skin."

Aomine's embrace feels so warm against the cold weather. And it becomes warmer in the morning later—although Sakurai reckons it's actually due to his own rising temperature having himself laying naked inside Aomine's arms.

* * *

Christmas comes with glittering colorful lights and merry songs. His team is having a feast at a beef restaurant, and they invite the retired senpai along. Wakamatsu-san is whining about his responsibilities, about the practice, while Imayoshi-san effectively ignores him, smirking into his drink. Susa-san is chattering away with Momoi-san at the corner of the restaurant.

The restaurant is so noisy and filled with hubbub of laughter, but he doesn't miss it when Aomine moves from his seat and traipses to the door.

With an apology to no one, Sakurai excuses himself to catch up with Aomine, not forgetting to bring the small brown bag along.

Aomine has perched himself on the rail, staring upwards at the blackish cloudy heavens. He greets Aomine with an apology once he's outside. Aomine pats the rail, gesturing him to sit down next to him.

"I'm sorry to say this, but you should stay inside, Aomine-san. They're going to exchange presents."

"I pass. That captain's voice is grating in my ears."

Sakurai chuckles hearing the childish whine. He nudges Aomine's hand with the bag he brought earlier. Aomine shoots him a quizzical look.

"Christmas present for you."

Aomine takes the bag from him, and fishes the present out.

It's a knitted scarf.

"You made it yourself?"

"Yes," he fiddles his thumbs. "I'm sorry, it looks quite ugly."

Aomine doesn't comment anything. To his surprise, Aomine throws the scarf around his neck, and ties it up on his head into a huge poor messy ribbon. Sakurai spills out a chuckle at the sight. Aomine looks absolutely ridiculous. Such a messy ribbon doesn't blend well with his manly figure.

"Got no present for you, so... I guess I'm your Christmas present."

Touched, Sakurai throws himself into Aomine's arms and wraps his arm around Aomine's body. He smiles into the warmth. "Gladly accept it."

Snow begins to drift down slowly. The embrace around his frame grows stronger and warmer, as if trying to protect him from the falling snow.

He doesn't tell Aomine he actually likes snow.

But, he likes being inside Aomine's arms better.

* * *

A new year shines through Tokyo, renewing people's resolution, and he has Aomine whispering his wishes to the shrine by his side.

Aomine looks so stunning in his navy blue yukata, its silky cloth slides down his muscular arms smoothly as he claps his hands together and rings the bell, while he's... _er..._ just clad in a plain brown yukata. Sometimes, he wonders what Aomine sees in him, and he can't help but feel insecure.

When Aomine laces their fingers together and pulls him away from his noisy team, Sakurai figures it must have slipped to his face. And he mentally kicks himself for it. They continue shuffling past people as Sakurai keeps muttering apology after apology each time he butts shoulders with other people.

Aomine drags him to a less crowded place and sighs. "Damn, too many humans lingering around. Makes me sick," then his navy eyes are drawn to a group of cute girls giggling happily not far from their spot.

Sakurai forcefully clamps shut his jealousy.

"They're cute... don't you think, Aomine-san?"

Aomine turns to him with an incredulous look. "Ah... Them? Quite pretty, I guess."

A pang of pain hits him in the face. Sakurai drops his gaze on the grass around his feet, hands clamping the yukata rather tightly they hurt.

"But, you're cuter," whispers Aomine into his ear. He feels Aomine's fingers ghostly touch his face, fostering him to lift up his gaze. His chest swells at the smile playing on Aomine's lips. The kind of smile that makes his heart miss a beat. The smile that he only sees when he's around Aomine.

One thought crosses his mind.

"...I love you, Aomine-san."

Just like that, Aomine bents down and kisses on his lips softly.

"Happy New Year, Ryou."

~Fin~


End file.
